The Many Hats of Cal and Niko Leandros
by Indigo-Night-Wisp
Summary: Hat –n. 1. any of various head coverings, esp. those including a brim 2. informal a role or capacity


**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Rob Thurman. Most definitions are paraphrased from Dictionary dot com. **

**A/N: I like to imagine that Cal and Niko are good at many things. Many… weird things. We get to see some of their widely varied skill sets in canon, with many allusions to more, so why not try my hand at some? With a childhood like theirs, there's gotta be some fun stuff to play with.**

**Also, there **_**may**_** be some crack here. Just a little.**

**Timeline: Everything. There may be spoilers.**

* * *

**Artist **_**–n**_**. 1. a person who practices or is skilled in art, esp. painting, drawing, or sculpture 2. a person skilled in some task or occupation**

Promise watched in amusement as Niko eyed the sketch pad with self-critical disapproval. He had been working on the drawing since she arrived, and stopped now only to glare at the paper. Niko wasn't a bad artist, she knew, but he _was _a perfectionist, a trait which entertainingly reared its head now.

"Niko, what on earth is it you're trying to draw?" she asked at last. He glanced up at her with a wry smile, gray eyes warm as they settled on her own violet ones, and turned the sketch pad to show her his rendering of a man's face. She studied it for a minute, leaning forward on her elbows across the kitchen table.

"What's wrong with it? I think it looks fine," she said finally, smiling at him.

His lips quirked in a slight smirk as he pulled the pad back to himself and started erasing. "It's just not right," he said. "I saw this man in the subway on the way home from the dojo today. He looks familiar, but I can't quite place him. I thought if I sketched his face it would come to me, but I can't get the details right. I know what he looks like, in my head, but I'm having some difficulty in putting it to paper."

She cocked her head a little bit, trying to see what he was doing to the drawing. He erased another line, redrew it, smudged the page a bit with the tip of one long finger, exhaled slowly, and erased again. Promise allowed herself a slight grin at his expense. It was a rare occasion that Niko would show frustration so obviously, and for it to happen over such an insignificant event was strangely endearing.

Suddenly, Niko sighed in exasperation, threw down his pencil, leaned back in his chair, and called towards the living room. "CAL!"

Promise jumped.

A head of tousled black hair poked into the kitchen. "Yeah?" came the sleepy drawl. Apparently, Cal had been napping. What a surprise.

Niko was flipping to a new page in the sketch book. "Come draw me a picture, Cal."

Yawning, Cal ambled into the kitchen and sat down at the head of the table, in between Promise and his older brother. "A picture of what?" he asked, reaching for pad and pencil with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. Shaking his head, he looked up at Niko expectantly.

"A man's face," Niko began, "with a soft jaw. Clean shaven, except for sideburns. Heavy eyebrows, dark. Long nose –no, Cal, not like mine– with a hook at the end." Cal's hand was skating over the page, long, dark lines left in its wake. The man's features were beginning to take shape under the pale fingers, details seeming to fly off the page. Promise's eyes grew wide.

A few more directions later, and Cal was turning the sketch pad to Niko. "This him?"

Niko examined the drawing carefully. "Yes, perfect. Thank you." Cal yawned again and stood, turning to leave the kitchen. Promise couldn't help herself.

"Wait, Cal," she said. He turned, blinking sleepily at her. She gave him a smile. "I didn't know you could draw like that."

He shrugged. "Niko taught me, when I was sixteen, and he was homeschooling me."

Niko spoke up simply, with the tiniest hint of pride, "In this case, the student has surpassed his teacher."

Cal smiled at him tiredly, exhaustion making its presence known in the dark circles under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. The look Niko sent his way was concerned, to those who knew how to read it.

"Go back to sleep, little brother," Niko ordered softly. "Thanks for the sketch."

Cal nodded once, mumbled a "good night," and stumbled back into the living room to collapse on the couch. Promise raised an eyebrow at the clock over the microwave, which declared the time to be four in the afternoon, and looked at Niko. He answered her unspoken question gravely.

"Nightmares. He didn't get much sleep last night."

"Ah," was all she said in reply, though she rose and went to drop a blanket over Cal on the couch. When she returned, Niko gave her a grin, a flash of white teeth against tan skin that nearly took her breath away.

"Who is he?" she asked, gesturing to the sketch as she settled onto Niko's lap. His arms looped around her waist as he considered the question.

"I don't know," he murmured. "Not yet. But I'm going to find out."

* * *

***Wrangler **_**–n**_**. 1. one who wrangles 2. a person who handles or controls animals involved in the making of a film or television program**

Robin stalked into the kitchen of the Leandros' apartment, all grace and offended sensibilities balanced keenly in the lines of his body as he threw himself into a chair. Niko and Promise exchanged longsuffering glances and reluctantly dragged their attention from their business meeting. Robin had an air about him that spoke of irritation and perturbation. This might actually be interesting.

Cal, sitting cross-legged on the countertop waiting for something to finish boiling on the stove, didn't bother to look up.

"Does anyone," Robin began, at once both ostentatious and casual, "have any idea of how one might go about the removal of a large alligator from one's living room without actually killing the thing?"

Promise raised her eyebrows at Niko and was opening her mouth to ask Robin what on earth he was babbling on about when Cal spoke up, still not looking away from his recalcitrant pot of water.

"You'd need something sort of heavy, like one of Niko's really thick books. Drop it right down on top of the head –not on the eyes, just on the head, towards the back of the skull. That'll stun the 'gator long enough for you to get a rope around its jaws and body. After that, all you've gotta do is haul the big guy out of your apartment and find the nearest zoo."

There was silence for a long moment before Cal finally looked up from the still-unboiling pot. "What?" he asked when he found everyone staring at him.

"How the heck do you know that?" Robin asked incredulously. Cal shrugged and went back to his pot-watching.

"You would not _believe _the crap they teach fifth graders in Florida public schools," he said mildly.

Robin gaped at him, and turned to Niko for an explanation, only to find his blond friend looking slightly put-out.

"_I_ never learned how to wrestle alligators when we were in Florida," Niko said, in a tone of voice that on anybody else would have been petulant.

"Yeah, well, you weren't in fifth grade, were you?" Cal said absently. Robin shook his head despairingly and quirked his lips at Promise, who was valiantly attempting to hold in a laugh. Sighing, the puck slipped from his chair and headed for the door.

"I suppose I'll try Cal's method," he said gloomily. "If you don't hear from me in two hours, assume I've been eaten and lock up my dealership, won't you?"

As he left the apartment, he heard Cal ask, "Is it because we fight monsters or because we live in New York City that we don't even think to wonder _why_ there's an alligator in Robin's living room?"

And Promise and Niko's voices answered together, "New York."

* * *

**Chef **_**–n.**_** a cook, esp. the principal cook in a restaurant**

Robin sighed and closed the book he'd been reading. Niko calmly turned the page in his and shoved another one across the coffee table. Scowling, the puck picked it up and started reading.

The Leandros brothers were in Robin's apartment, researching for their upcoming job. Or, more accurately, Niko was researching. Robin didn't know _what_ Cal was doing, or, for that matter, why _he _was being forced to help read dusty old books _instead _of Cal. The thought of Cal being loose in his apartment was scaring him a little bit, but every time he tried to get up and go look for the brat, Niko slapped him with another tome from the Dark Ages and raised an eyebrow that said, "Move and die."

Sighing again, Robin flipped the page and was just settling into the dry text when Cal came shuffling out of the kitchen. Cal leaned over the couch behind Niko and rested his chin on his brother's shoulder.

"Nik," he said, coaxingly, "make gumbo."

Robin looked over in bemusement and raised his eyebrows at Niko, who didn't look up from his book as he asked, "Why?"

Cal glanced up at the ceiling as he thought about the question and then answered, "'Cause I'm hungry and it's dinnertime and there's stuff for it in the kitchen."

To Robin's surprise, this stunning bit of logic was not met with the derision he expected. Instead, Niko considered the response for a moment, then shrugged and said, "Okay." Shutting his book with a snap, he stood up and headed for the kitchen. "Chicken or shrimp?"

"Chicken," Cal said, following his older brother. "I think Robin's housekeeper was gonna use the shrimp for something else."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The note that said, 'Do not use. Special Dinner Planned' kinda gave it away."

"I'm surprised you actually bothered to read it," Niko snorted. Cal aimed an elbow at Niko's ribs, which his brother swatted away without looking.

Robin, trailing along behind the two, leaned on the countertop. "So, let me get this straight," he said to Niko. "I sit and read boring books with you for two hours, and you refuse to let me have so much as a drop of drink. Meanwhile, Cal here wanders around poking his nose into my stuff and not doing anything productive whatsoever, and the instant he wants to eat, you drop everything and make him _gumbo_?"

Niko gave him a blank look. "What's your point?" he asked. Cal sniggered and tried to hide it with a cough when Robin glared at him.

"I didn't even know you cooked," Robin grumbled. Niko and Cal shared a grin.

"We spent a few months in New Orleans when I was fourteen," Niko said, turning on the stove and reaching for a bag of rice. "When you take Home Ec class in New York, you bake cookies. When you take it in N'awlins, you learn to make gumbo."

"Unbelievable," Robin shook his head. Niko smirked slightly.

"It _is _about dinnertime," he pointed out mildly. "And honestly, before we came over here, Cal _was_ helping research. We just weren't getting anywhere and needed a change of scenery. He volunteered to help this morning. I find it best not to push for too much when he does things willingly. Rewarding him with food is a good training method."

It was Robin's turn to smirk as Cal squawked about being referred to like a pet. It was almost worth all those hours of perusing ancient books. Almost.

* * *

****Sweet Talker **_**–n. **_**1. someone with an assured and ingratiating manner 2. one who is charming and amiable**

It was not often that Promise Nottinger found herself admitting defeat. It was such a rare event, in fact, that when it did occur, it put her into what could be described –if one was foolish enough to do so– as a sulk.

"That impossible woman isn't going to tell us _anything_," she grumbled to the Leandros brothers and Robin Goodfellow as she rejoined them in their corner of the spacious room. The four of them were hunting down a lead for their latest job, and, for once, were investigating in style. One of Promise's acquaintances (a vampire, who like herself, was deeply involved in New York society) was worried that there was something of a… nefarious nature living in her building. Unfortunately, the only person who had ever actually _seen _the thing was one Gert Case, an older, completely human woman who lived alone in the penthouse apartment above Promise's acquaintance. Mrs. Case was not what one would call… cooperative.

("She's a grumpy old biddy who doesn't appreciate being asked questions by someone younger and richer than she is at a party."

"As always, Loman, your insights into the nature of humanity humble and astound us."

"Careful there, little brother, don't choke on all those fancy words.")

Robin sighed dramatically. "Honestly, Promise. Can't do this _one _little thing… I suppose I shall have to sacrifice my dignity once more to obtain answers."

Cal smirked. "What dignity?"

Robin waved a hand at him. "Quiet, you. I know full well that I shall have to be the one to convince the lady. Neither of you two cretins could possibly manage it."

Blinking innocently, Promise asked, "And, how exactly are you planning to… convince Mrs. Case?"

The puck winked. "How else?"

Cal and Promise exchanged matching looks of revulsion and horror before Niko cut in musingly. "How old is Mrs. Case, exactly, Promise?"

Surprised, she thought for a moment. "Well, I don't know about _exactly_, but I can tell you she's definitely in her late sixties or early seventies. Why?"

He was nodding. "Does she have any grandchildren?" he asked next.

Promise raised an eyebrow. "Yes, she does. A grandson and a couple of granddaughters. They're all in their late teens." Robin and Cal were shrugging to each other, equally at a loss.

Niko simply nodded calmly, as though her words had confirmed his thoughts precisely. "Excellent." Tilting his head slightly in Mrs. Case's direction, he said, "Cal."

Sudden understanding dawned across his little brother's face. Matching Niko's tilt with one of his own, Cal said, smirking slightly, "I thought you told me not to do that anymore."

Undaunted, Niko crossed his arms over his chest. "That was when you were five and doing it to get Mrs. Henderson to feed you cookies before lunch while she was babysitting you."

"Wait," Robin said exasperatedly. "I don't get it. _What_ is he going to do?"

Niko turned to Robin and Promise with a quirk to his lips. "He's going to get our information."

Surprised, Promise looked at Cal. "How? She's hardly going to cooperate."

Sighing, but already moving to comply with Niko's request, Cal looked back. "He's using me," he told her mournfully. "Shamelessly. My own brother."

"You weren't complaining when it got you free cookies," said brother retorted mildly. Cal sniggered, removing his jacket and rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. Releasing the tie that held his hair back, he let the black length fall to his chin where it swung freely. Robin watched with interest.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Promise's eyes widened slightly as she understood.

"He's making himself look younger," she said softly, watching fondly as Cal turned to Niko for inspection. At the older man's approving nod, Cal spun away and hurried off into the crowd.

They lost sight of him briefly as people milled around, but quickly found him again, approaching Gert Case with an eager step that was completely foreign to the Cal they knew. They watched as he reached her side and almost immediately struck up a conversation, sitting down next to the old lady and speaking with an earnest expression on his face. Robin and Promise were in shock.

"I didn't even know Cal knew _how _to be social," Robin murmured to the vampire.

"Much less that he could manage it with an elderly woman," Promise whispered back.

If Niko heard them, he made no comment.

After a moment, Cal stood up, offering his hand to Mrs. Case and chivalrously assisting her to her feet. He began escorting her through the crowd towards his brother and their friends.

Niko glanced smugly at Robin and Promise. The former's mouth was hanging open.

"He –how did he do that?" the puck asked incredulously. Niko allowed himself a smirk.

"Mrs. Case," Cal said, arriving at that moment, "I'd like you to meet my friends. Promise Nottinger, I think you already know. Rob Fellows, Mrs. Case. And this is my brother, Niko Leandros."

Reaching forward and shaking the slim hand gravely, Niko inclined his head ever so slightly. Cal gave the woman a reassuring smile. Robin nearly fainted.

"Niko and I will take care of that little… infestation in your apartment building, Mrs. Case, with the help of Mr. Fellows if he's willing." The look Cal shot Robin was almost mocking.

Rallying, Robin also extended his hand, bowing over Mrs. Case's. "It would be my pleasure," he pronounced. Promise rolled her eyes.

Gert Case beamed at them all –even Promise. "I can't thank you enough," she said. "Honestly, I was beginning to think I was going senile! All those noises, and those shadows…" She shuddered. "I'm so glad I won't have to worry about them any longer!"

Niko bowed his head solemnly. "They'll be gone as soon as we can arrange it, Mrs. Case," he promised with quiet assurance. She smiled and began to answer, only to be interrupted the next second.

"Gert? Gert?"

"Oh, that'll be my escort," Mrs. Case sighed. "It seems that the girls my daughters hire to take me around town get younger every year that I get older." She aimed a mock-annoyed frown at Cal, who smiled disarmingly at her. Chuckling, she patted his arm. "Best go to the poor thing or she'll be completely helpless," she said. Turning to go, she added over her shoulder, "Oh, and I can see that you were serious about what you said, young man," looking at Cal. "Trust an old lady," she winked. "It shows." And then she turned again and caught up with a frantic looking girl in very high heels. "Calm down, dearie, I'm right here…"

Amused, Niko looked at Cal. "What did you say to her?" he asked.

Cal shrugged, though he aimed a sly glance at Promise. "I just told her that I learned everything I know from you," he said casually. "That's why she insisted on coming over with me. She said she wanted to meet the man who raised me."

Robin scoffed, even as Promise grinned and Cal raised a cheeky eyebrow at his big brother. Niko just raised one back.

"Are you suggesting that I taught you how to sweet talk old ladies?" he asked dryly. Cal's other eyebrow shot up and he slid laughing gray eyes over to Promise, who narrowed her own in reply.

"Wey-all," he said, voice coming out as a slow, smooth drawl. "It's not like you haven't had practice –hey, _kidding_, Promise, I'm just kidding! You can't kill me in public, what would all your admirers say?"

* * *

**Sensei **_**–n. **_**a karate or judo instructor**

_Catch and turn and hold and spin and block and twist and shove and strike!_

The small group of students (aged sixteen to twenty-five) was watching the demonstration in awe. When the black-haired kid had walked into the room minutes before and begun to snark at their teacher, they had all been expecting Sensei to throw him out immediately. Instead, the blond man had gotten a weird gleam in his eye and offered to spar with the intruder. To the students' surprise, the kid accepted. Sensei introduced him as "My brother, Cal," and then requested that they all make some room for a demonstration.

Cal Leandros faced his brother and bowed, respectfully. He grinned slightly at the surprised pleasure in Niko's eyes at the gesture. Bowing in return, Niko settled into a formal kata stance. Cal mirrored him.

And then…

They began formally, shifting to intense before very long, as they were wont to do. When holding back was no longer an issue, it became very tempting to simply allow instinct to take over and direct the bout. Niko especially was attempting to keep them both under control. Cal wanted something, or else he wouldn't have come in here in the first place. The question was: what _did_ Cal want so badly that he would interrupt Niko's lesson for the sole purpose of harassing his older brother?

He got his answer the next second. Niko felt the scratch of fingernails across his ribs as Cal got in a lucky shot and his eyebrows went up in bemusement. Probingly, he aimed his next blow towards Cal's own ribs, then turned the strike into a poke as it landed. Cal jerked away, his eyes meeting Niko's and sparking with mischief. They were both ticklish there.

Niko's lips quirked into a slight smile. So, that's what Cal wanted.

Obviously, little brother was bored with staying at home and watching TV. Since his shift at the Ninth Circle didn't start until six, Cal spent the hours between noon (when he got up) and four (when Niko came home from the dojo) in a state of pleasant lethargy. Apparently, even this lovely pastime had its limits. Cal was bored, and heaven forbid he do any of the list of chores Niko had left on the table that morning. No, clearly he had devised a much simpler strategy for garnering entertainment.

Simply put, Cal wanted to play.

He saw the exact moment that Cal realized that he knew what was going on. His little brother looked slightly chagrined, but held his gaze determinedly.

It was a familiar look.

_Niko, what are you doing? Nik, help me with this? Nik, I wanna come, too. Nik, show me. Nik, teach me how to do that._

_Niko, play with me._

He allowed the grin that overtook his face and immediately turned his formal kata into a tackle. Cal went down, hard, but smiling.

They grappled for a few minutes, tickling each other occasionally and mostly trying to get the upper hand. When at last they did stop, Niko was kneeling, straddling Cal's waist and pinning his arms to the floor above his head. Cal was breathing hard. Niko was barely winded.

"And that," he said, addressing his students, "is how you immobilize your opponent without injuring him."

Dutifully, if not slightly confusedly, they nodded.

"Yes, sensei." They chorused, before turning back to their katas.

Niko let Cal up, effortlessly lifting him to his feet with one hand.

As Cal turned to go, Niko stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Stay," he said. "You can help me teach."

His brother hesitated only a second. "Yeah, okay." He flashed an impudent smile at his brother. "_Sensei_."

Niko smirked. "Jealous?"

Cal scoffed. "Hardly. You were _mine_ first."

And then he was off, correcting a stance here and adjusting footwork there. Niko watched him fondly, remembering the first thing about fighting he ever taught Cal.

"_If you ever get into a fight, and you know you can't win it alone, what's the first thing you do?"_

"_Uh, run?"_

_He'd laughed. _

"_No, Cal. You call me."_

_Big grey eyes gave him a scathing look. "Well, duh. I thought that was a given."_

Maybe it was an odd thing to smile over. He didn't care.

* * *

****Protector **_**–n. **_**a person or thing that protects; defender; guardian**

He is five years old, and he holds Cal on his lap in the little bedroom so _graciously _provided by Sophia, listening with wide eyes to the noises from the other room and praying that Cal won't wake up and start crying. Sophia's instructions were very clear.

"_Just sit on the bed and don't move. And for Roma's sake, don't let the little brat make a sound!"_

When Sophia has "company," her sons pretend they don't exist.

He wants to sleep, because he's tired and scared, but Sophia promised that she'd go to the store and get baby food for Cal if he can keep them both quiet for tonight. If he sleeps, he might not be able to keep Cal from making noise. He needs Cal to stay asleep because Cal needs food and Sophia _promised _but if Cal makes a _sound _there will _definitely_ be no food and his baby brother will go hungry. This, of course, is unacceptable, so he will stay awake, to make sure that Cal stays asleep.

No matter how exhausted he is.

000

Thirteen years old, and he takes an instant dislike to Cal's fourth grade teacher, for no discernible reason. He can't even say himself why he detests the man so much, he just knows that, when he goes to pick Cal up after school, he must keep his eyes on Mr. Roark at all times, must stand in between the teacher and Cal, and must never, ever, _ever _be late.

He knows that Cal doesn't understand why he acts the way he does around Mr. Roark, and he prepares himself for an argument about the whole thing when Cal finally calls him on it.

What he isn't prepared for, though, is for his little brother to look up at him with big gray eyes that match his own and say, "It's okay that you don't like Mr. Roark. I don't like him either. He's always messing up my hair, and he didn't listen when I told him that only big brothers are allowed to do that."

Feeling oddly justified, with Cal's nine-year-old logic and endorsement behind him, he continues his defensive behavior around the teacher.

A few days before they leave that town, that school, that class, he happens to glance at a newspaper someone had left lying on the table of the fast food restaurant Sophia is currently "working" at. The headline nearly makes him gasp.

ELEMENTERY SCHOOL TEACHER ARRESTED ON SUSPICION OF MOLESTATION.

He swallows hard, but can't help the slight twinge of satisfaction. He'd known. The man hadn't even _done _anything to Cal, but _he _had _known_.

Big brothers always do.

000

When he's eighteen, he fails for the first time, and he spends two days desperately, miserably aware of that fact. His little brother, his Cal, has been taken by the monsters that have dogged their lives since Cal was five.

He isn't sure he deserves a second chance, but that doesn't stop him from praying desperately for one, or from snatching it and holding it tight when it appears. Cal, his Cal, practically falling on top of him out of a hole in the atmosphere. His little brother is naked and dirty and emaciated and the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and as he bundles Cal into his car and drives away from their past, he swears to himself that he will not waste this second chance.

In fourteen years, he's only failed once, and he plans to keep it that way.

000

He's twenty-two, and he's been through a week of hell.

He'd failed. Once again, he'd lost his brother. Darkling had made him fail. He had almost lost Cal. Again.

The thought is killing him.

He takes a few calming breaths, inhaling the smells that inevitably come with a ranch in the late summertime. Rafferty is generous in allowing them to stay for a while. He isn't sure about Robin, but he knows that he, for one, is not eager to return to the city right now.

He hears Cal behind him but does nothing to block the hand that descends towards his head. His little brother's fingers tug briefly at what remains of his hair and then Cal is settling on the porch steps next to him.

"I know what you're thinking," his brother says, almost sing-song. He raises an eyebrow, because he sincerely doubts that this is true. Cal may know him better than he knows himself, but he knows for a fact that he has an excellent poker face.

"I know what you're thinking," Cal says again, "and you're wrong." His brother turns to look him square in the eye. "You. Did not. Fail."

And his breath catches, just a little bit, because, snap, maybe his poker face isn't as good as he'd thought.

"You may think that you have, but I think that the fact that I'm still here is proof that you haven't. You haven't failed, Nik. You haven't."

Absolution washes over him like his little brother's blood, pulsing and pounding beneath pale skin, and he breathes in deeply, closing his eyes and reaching up to tug at Cal's ponytail. Because his brother still trusts him, still believes in him, still looks at him like _that_.

And as Cal darts away from the porch to pounce on Rafferty's back as the other man turns the corner, Niko breathes out and allows himself to think that maybe, just maybe, he hasn't quite failed at all.

* * *

****Parent 1. **_**–n.**_** a person acting as father or mother; guardian 2. **_**–v. **_**to be or act as parent {as of a child}; to raise or bring up**

_The realization that he was mother to his younger brother was surprising to Niko only because Cal had realized it first._

He knew they were watching him. They probably thought they were being subtle, but Niko Leandros had been stared at a lot in the past eight years, and he knew when someone was eyeing him.

He turned a politely blank look upon the woman next to him and asked, "Can I help you?" She blushed, a little.

"Er, no. I was just wondering…"

She trailed off, but he knew the rest of the sentence, could read it in her face.

_What is a thirteen year old boy doing in the mothers' area?_

It wasn't actually only for mothers, of course. "It" was really just a semi-shaded section of the school courtyard where a lot of moms waited to pick up their kids at the end of the school day. (Niko was pretty sure he was the only one who really appreciated the merits of the space. It was the only place in the courtyard that gave one a clear, direct line of sight to the school's front door.) As a general rule, it was understood that mothers were the only people occupying that space.

And there was this thirteen year old boy, standing like he belonged there.

Niko ignored the woman and returned his attention to the door, where Cal's class was finally exiting. He stepped forward, smiling slightly as Cal caught sight of him and waved. A boy next to Cal laughed and said something to his brother. Cal shrugged and replied, then tore across the grass toward Niko, not noticing the incredulous look his remark had earned.

"Hey!" the kid yelled, running after Cal, who had reached Niko. Coming up beside them, he said, "He can't be! He's your brother!"

Niko raised an eyebrow, but Cal was the one to say, "Which is why he _can_."

And with that enigmatic statement, he was pulling Niko away by the hand, leaving his classmate staring after them in bewilderment.

"Can't be what?" Niko asked Cal. His little brother shrugged.

"A mom," he said, grinning cheekily up at his big brother.

_The day Niko realized he was Cal's father sort of sucked; the two events were not entirely related._

It started with Sophia shrieking at Cal over breakfast –hangovers were _gits _weren't they just– and went on from there to both of them being late for school, Cal's principal snapping at Niko _because _they were late for school, and no lunch for either of them because they hadn't had time this morning to scrounge anything out of the nearly bare cupboards in the house Sophia was currently renting.

Niko Leandros was not exactly in what you would call a pleasant mood.

Arriving at Cal's school to pick him up, only to be stopped by Cal's teacher and asked if he wouldn't mind staying, she had some things she wanted to discuss with Cal's primary caregiver, and the eight year old had said that was Niko.

Yeah. This day sucked.

She was giving him a concerned Look now, the one that said, _Thirteen-year-olds should not be involved in parent/teacher conferences for their younger siblings._

Niko was very familiar with those Looks.

"Ms. Calendar," he said as calmly as he could, mindful of Cal quietly doing homework at one of the desks behind him. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes, um…"

"Niko," he supplied patiently, mentally settling in for a long afternoon.

"Niko," she said, with relief. "I really wanted to speak to Cal's parent, but he said that you were the one who usually looks after him…" she trailed off, clearly expecting him to fill in the blank.

He didn't oblige. "That is correct," he said simply. "What seems to be the problem? Cal isn't misbehaving in class, is he?"

That particular question brought Cal flying across the room to stand by his big brother's chair. "No! Niko, I never –"

"Cal behaves himself quite well, actually," Jenny Calendar smiled. "It was actually the _other _children I wanted to discuss."

Cal withdrew abruptly. "'snot a big deal," he mumbled, backing away from her desk.

Without looking away from Ms. Calendar, Niko caught Cal's shoulder and drew him close, holding him in place with a hand on the back of his neck. "Explain, please," he said politely, with just a tiny hint of steel.

Ms. Calendar sighed. "Cal has had a few run-ins with a couple of other boys in the class. It's not his fault, but it is beginning to be a serious problem."

Niko turned narrow grey eyes on his brother, who swallowed. "Cal?" he asked simply.

"It's nothin', Nik," Cal said. "They're just picking on me a little."

"Cal," Ms. Calendar said, concernedly, "they were pushing you around this morning. I saw them."

Cal's mouth twisted a little, but he said nothing. Niko, however, gave her a sharp look. "Is this the first time they've gotten physical?"

She nodded. "Before today, it's just been some name-calling and rudeness. It didn't seem to upset Cal at all, so I just did my best to curb it in the classroom, but then… this morning…" she trailed off again, before giving Niko a sympathetic and pained Look. The kind of Look that said, _You and I know that Cal can't help being different, but kids can be cruel –what can you do?_

Niko was pretty familiar with that Look as well.

He stood. "Thank you, Ms. Calendar, for letting me know about this. Cal hasn't said a word about it." He gave his little brother a slightly displeased look, softening noticeably when Cal ducked his head. Placing one hand on top of Cal's dark hair, he faced the teacher and said, "I'll take care of it."

He was stopped once more as the boys turned to go. "Wait, Niko," Ms. Calendar said, sounding a bit worried. "You can't… I mean… you won't… parents aren't… what are you going to do?"

Niko gave her a Look of his own. The one that said, _He's my little brother and I will do whatever I deem necessary to protect him, thanks very much._

_Cal_ knew that one.

"Actually," Niko said, "I can, and I will. I'm _not _a parent, so I can do whatever I have to. Don't worry," he tossed over his shoulder as he and Cal left the room, "I won't break anything."

Jenny Calendar sat at her desk quietly for a moment. "Sure," she said softly. She snorted. "Not a parent, my sainted aunt."

* * *

**Lover –n. 1. either of the two people involved in a love affair 2. a person who loves**

Robin was sitting at the bar in the Ninth Circle, trying to drink their latest case out of his head. Promise and Niko were nearby. Cal was serving drinks.

Robin turned his head and groaned. Cal turned around in surprise, only to find Robin glaring at the couple beside him, who were ignoring him for… more pleasant things.

"It's not fair," Robin moaned. "Why is it only Niko that gets to kiss the pretty girl at the end of these things?"

"Sure it's Niko you're jealous of?" Cal asked pointedly. Robin sniffed.

"That anybody is getting anything at all is something to be jealous of if I'm not included in that number," he said grumpily.

Niko and Promise continued to ignore both of them. Making out in public wasn't really their style, but a few stolen kisses here and there weren't out of the question, and they were making the most of their protected status in the Ninth Circle. Here, Niko could relax a little.

Robin slurred a smile a Cal. "Well, at least I'm not alone," he said. "Here, Caliban, let's drink to our lack of partner for the evening, eh?"

Cal smirked. "Sorry, Loman. You'll be drinking alone tonight."

"What?" Robin turned, only to nearly be shoved off his stool as a blond she-wolf brushed past him and leaned over the bar.

"Pretty boy," Delilah purred, tangling her fingers in Cal's t-shirt collar. "You smell of smoke."

"We had to burn the place down," Cal told her, reaching up and stroking her face. He leaned closer and pushed his nose into hers. "Hi," he said, grinning. Delilah grinned back, wolfishly.

"Pretty boy…" she breathed, right before Cal's lips covered her own.

And Robin watched, wide eyed in shock, as Cal kissed the scariest she-wolf he'd ever seen breathless.

"Okay," he said slowly, "now I've seen everything."

A snort of amusement had him looking back to where Niko was smirking at him, head tilted to the side as Promise nuzzled his neck. "Time to go home, I think," the blond said.

"Yeah," Robin agreed dazedly. "I think I've had enough. I'm hallucinating."

* * *

**Vandal **_**–n. **_**1. one who willfully or ignorantly mars or destroys something beautiful or valuable 2. a person who deliberately causes damage or destruction to personal or public property**

They stumbled through the apartment door, wearily discarding weapons and jackets as they went. Well, Cal was discarding weapons and a jacket. Niko was double-checking to make sure the door was locked, and carefully assuring himself that they were well and truly bolted in for the night. Once satisfied, he turned a stern eye upon Cal, who groaned theatrically and swept his various paraphernalia into his arms and carried it down the hallway to his room, where he probably dumped it on his bed.

Shaking his head, Niko removed his own coat, neatly hanging it up on the rack, then went to his own room to dispose of his own weapons.

When he returned to the living room, Cal was lying on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV.

"I'm making tea," Niko told him quietly. "Do you want some?"

Cal waved a lazy hand and said, "Not if it's made of snotgrass or whatever."

Niko snorted. "It is not, as you say, made of _snotgrass. _Or any other sort of grass for that matter. It's just chamomile."

"That sounds delightful," Cal said sarcastically, tilting his head back to sneer at his brother. "Make mine with lemon, won't you?"

Rapping his knuckles on top of Cal's head did wonders for his own attitude, but not very much for Cal's in the long run, Niko mused, wandering back to the kitchen to make the tea.

The water was just beginning to boil when Cal's voice suddenly reached him from the living room. Oh my gosh, Nik, come look at this!"

Grabbing at a knife, he hurried out to the other room, ready to deal with whatever had put such a shock into his little brother's voice.

Sighing quietly upon finding Cal alone, still staring wide-eyed at the TV, Niko turned his attention to the screen. "What?" he asked. Cal pointed.

"Isn't that the building we just left?" he asked. Niko took a closer look. It was a bit hard to tell, what with most of the building currently burning to the ground, but it _did_ look familiar. A bit.

Cal glanced at him askance. "Nik… it wasn't on fire when we left, right?"

He raised one eyebrow and went back to the kitchen. Behind him, Cal scrambled off the couch to follow.

"Nik!"

He turned. "What, Cal?"

His little brother was staring at him, mouth open. "Did we… I mean, us…?"

Niko smirked at him. Cal blinked, then gulped. "Oh. Oops."

Shaking his head, still smiling, Niko went back to making tea.

* * *

**Brat –n. a child**,** esp one who is ill-mannered or unruly: used contemptuously or playfully**

Robin yanked open the door to his apartment before Niko could even knock.

"Thank the maker you're here," he gasped. "I've just about had all I can take."

Raising one eyebrow, Niko smoothly stepped through across the threshold and paused in the entryway.

"Surely," he said, voice quietly dry, "you are capable of handling one measly little teenager for a few hours? An _injured_, measly little teenager at that?"

Cal had taken a hard knock to the head and a nasty gash to the ribs the night before, as he and Niko finished up a job. Neither was particularly serious, but both were painful and uncomfortable, and Niko had been reluctant to leave Cal alone for any lengthy period of time. Although, Niko mused, observing his puck friend's unhappy face, perhaps leaving him in Robin's tender care while Niko went to the dojo for a few hours was not the best idea either.

Robin glared at him. "Measly little teenager my sainted left knee! He's a menace, a terror, a horrible example of his species –oh, cool your jets, Blondie, I meant teenagers, not… the other."

Niko's instinctive snarl subsided but the sudden bout of tension seemed to oddly calm the puck, because he simply sighed and said, "Look, Niko, you know I really don't mind babysitting usually, but he's been even more of a pain than he normally is today! Snooping around in my things, trying to cook something –even though I _told _him that I'd make it, and that he should sit down before he busted something else– then flipping through every channel on the TV without pausing for a single second on one of them… And that's not even mentioning the whining."

Niko's other eyebrow lifted slightly. Robin grinned for the first time since Niko had arrived.

"About an hour after you left, he came wandering out of my bedroom and started asking me where you were, when you were getting back, that kind of thing. I was a little worried at first, 'cause I know he took a knock to the head, and that sounded like memory loss, but I'm pretty sure he was just doing it to be annoying. A while later though, he sat down in front of the TV and started looking real petulant, like he wanted to just curl up and bawl his eyes out, and he asked again when you were coming."

Concerned, Niko opened his mouth to ask something, but Robin, either not noticing or trying to head him off, said, "I think it's just some residual concussion stuff. He's okay."

Giving his friend a pointed look that clearly said he would be determining that for himself, Niko pushed past Robin and into the living room.

Cal was curled up on the sofa, head buried in the cushion and arms wrapped around tender ribs. Niko allowed himself a slight grin at the sight. Behind him, Robin tried to disguise his own fondness with a disgusted grunt.

"Little brat. Probably drooling all over my upholstery."

Niko shook his head, letting the grin grow to spread across his face, and reached down to gently shake Cal's shoulder. "Wake up, little brother," he said, "it's time to go home."

Cal stirred, turning his head and squinting up into the light and his brother's face. "'ik?" he slurred.

"Yeah, Cal?" Niko answered, shooting an amused look at Robin.

"C'n we go 'ome? Robin'sss bein' a pain 'n th' neck."

Laughing quietly at Robin's incredulous sputtering, Niko reached out and pulled his little brother to his feet. Tired gray eyes matching his own stared at him out of a pale, drawn face. "Yeah, Cal," he said. "We can go home."

* * *

*****Blood –n. **** 1. the fluid that circulates in the principal vascular system of human beings and other vertebrates 2. relationship through being of the same family, race, or kind; kinship**

Pouring, streaming, flowing, running over his hands and his wrists and all the way up his arms and no, please no, make it stop, make it stop make it stop _makeitstoppleasepleaseplease…_

He's mine, you can't take him. Please, he's all I _have_.

He's bleeding, that's his _life _coming out of that cut, that gash, that gaping hole in the middle of his…

_Don't you _dare _stop bleeding. You've started, so now you can't stop. The dead don't bleed, so you just keep on bleeding, keep on pumping that heart of yours, you miserable son of a…_

Voice harsh, eyes furious, every line, every sinew of muscle in tune, in chorus with every thump of a straining heart and every gush of precious, life-giving liquid that stains hands and clothing and faces and the ground and every single beat crying out the same thing.

_Mine. Don't you _even_ think about it._

There are whispers throughout New York City, whispers that spread as far as contacts in other cities and states go. There's something to be feared in the Big Apple, something that brooks no argument and takes no prisoners. If you leave it alone, then it will leave you alone. Probably. Unless the price is right.

Heaven help you if you decide to tangle with it.

_You hurt my brother. You made him bleed._

_Well, look at that, you're a regular medical miracle. A walking, breathing dead man._

_Hello, my name is Leandros. You hurt my brother. Prepare to die._

_Ah, who am I kidding?_

_You'll never see it coming._

* * *

**A/N: So, my favorite Dr. Seuss book was always **_**The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins**_**. 'Cause why the heck not?**

***I just want to make this clear: under no circumstances are any 'gator wrestling techniques described in this fic to be considered viable options when faced with a live alligator. Steve Irwin did NOT approve this message. Neither, for that matter, did the public school system of the state of Florida.**

****Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: Gert Case is a character from **_**Supernatural**_**. You can find her in the season 3 episode, **_**Red Sky at Dawn**_**. Mr. Roark is from Disney's **_**Atlantis. **_**(He is not really a child molester. I just think he sort of looks like one.) Jenny Calendar is from **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_**. **

*****Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer 2: I'm sure you all know where the quote I mangled comes from, but for the pop-culture stunted among us, it's from **_**The Princess Bride, **_**which is a classic and definitely one you should watch if you haven't.**

**Wow, this took a long time to write. Probably wouldn't have taken quite so long if I didn't get distracted and write other things **_**while**_** writing it, but still. Long fic, long time.**


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